


Logic v. Emotion (I Want You)

by lumosinlove



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: John Watson - Freeform, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Sherlock Holmes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-17
Updated: 2017-03-17
Packaged: 2018-10-06 11:00:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10333181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumosinlove/pseuds/lumosinlove
Summary: Sherlock isn't really all logic, but that doesn't mean John doesn't have to coach him through his emotions a little.Or the one where John's been having a bad day-until he isn't.





	

Sherlock had never seen John like this. He’d gotten home from the hospital and only mumbled something about a rough day when Sherlock asked. He’d said nothing more until gotten out a scotch and glass and sat down in his chair, only then preceding to demand Sherlock to play for him.

Sherlock had barely been able to focus on the strings and bow. He tried to categorize. _Task at hand: Violin: Includes: smooth the bow back and forth, focus on each note-_

But each time he felt a warm feeling bubble to his frontal lobe, dispersing the orderly, familiar instructions his mind naturally gave his hands and fingers when it came to his music. He’d pretended he didn’t know what was causing it, but he was too clever to trick himself in such a feeble way. John was looking at him. That was the source of the warmth. John was looking at him, bathed in firelight, lids hooded slightly, and a soft, calm smile on his face. Sherlock had finally cut off mid song, lying that something was off and that he couldn’t play like that. That he’d have to take it to the shops tomorrow. John had just nodded and poured himself another scotch.

That was how the night had begun.

It had escalated into John laughing at almost everything he or Sherlock said. He completely ignored Sherlock’s attempts to find out what had caused this drinking spree, and, honestly, it was getting harder for Sherlock to focus on that task either. He kept finding himself wanting to smile and laugh with John. _(Source of Urge: John’s smile)._

The warm feeling spread down to his chest. _(Cause: John has never laughed this much. Effect: Emotions of happiness and relief that John is laughing.)_

Sherlock tried to lie to himself again and ignore the fact that, the real overpowering emotional effect of John’s laughter was complete and utter endearment.

He sat in his chair, feeling his posture becomes less and less stiff the more John talked and laughed at himself. When his own smile finally broke through, however, John’s laughter stopped abruptly and faded into another one of his soft smiles. Just for him, Sherlock liked to think.

Sherlock swore he could feel the warmth in his toes.

“Have you finished then?” Sherlock’s voice came out higher than he meant it. By the soft chuckle John gave, he guessed that it had shown on his face.

John laughed again, letting his head fall back onto his chair and crossing his feet. He set the still half full glass down and eyed the noticeably empty bottle, “Yeah, yeah. Suppose I have.”

“Good. Now we can stop this, and you can tell me what’s really on your-“

“You weren’t enjoying my company, Holmes?”

Sherlock suppressed a slight shiver. His last name sounded entirely different coming from John’s mouth. It wasn’t cross like people usually said it. It was almost…

Sherlock shook himself, “I always enjoy your company, John. I cannot, however, ignore the fact that you are evading an… emotion.”

John laughed or sighed—Sherlock couldn’t decide which—and spread his hands open in surrender, “Well, go on then.”

Sherlock cocked his head to the side slightly, narrowing his eyes, “Go on what?”

John closed his eyes, head resting comfortably on the back of his chair, arms dropping, “Deduce me.”

 _Seduce me_ , Sherlock’s mind played instead and he stood abruptly. _Heat._ He glared at the fire. _Heat and alcohol that’s all this is. That’s all that’s happening to you._

He could believe this lie as well, if it weren’t for the fact that he’d had no alcohol. The heat detail only happened in extreme cases. Furthermore, if he was feeling rather hot, it wasn’t from the flames in the fireplace.

He stuttered, “Well- clearly something happened at work.”

John snapped his fingers, words slightly slurred, “Very good. Go again.”

Sherlock opened and closed his mouth a few times, before forcing his eyes away from John’s face so that his other senses could actually perform their jobs. He swiped John’s coat from where it lay on the back of the client’s chair, taking a quick sniff.

“Not female related. No traces of perfume on your coat. You wouldn’t have been this open about it if it had been, so that’s two things that rule that out.” He threw the coat back on the chair, ignoring John’s stare and bringing his fingertips to his chin, “You get a half hour for lunch, not much room for any sort of discomfort there. That leaves work related, and if not female then more specifically _patient_ related.”

Sherlock missed the way John’s smile was faltering. He continued to take long strides back and forth in front of him.

“You were working with young children today, or more specifically one young child.” He did note John’s raised eyebrow, “The Barbie sticker still on your sweater. You took one when the child did signifying you were trying to comfort her. She was scared, meaning it wasn’t a routine check-up, it was something more serious. Something you clearly had been thinking about all day given the fact that the image on the sticker is faded slightly— you’ve been touching it, thinking about the child—and that it is still on your sweater. That means something went wrong, something is wrong, and you’re worried, you wish you could-“

Sherlock froze, realizing what he had just done. John was leaning forward in his chair, head in his hands. Sherlock shuffled on his feet, startled by the sudden change in behavior and guilt rushing through him.

“I-“ He took a step forward, “John..”

“It’s fine.” John’s voice was slightly muffled.

Sherlock struggled with himself a moment more, before resigning into his gut instinct, not matter how odd it felt. He sank slowly to his knees by John’s chair, hands fidgeting in his lap. He wanted so badly to reach out and lift John’s head from his hands. He just wasn’t sure he could do it right.

“I apologize. John, I get… caught up.”

“I know, Sherlock. I know.” He let out another long sigh (Sherlock wished he was still laughing) and sat up, leaning back and looking at Sherlock, “I egged you on. ’s my fault.

“No,” Sherlock couldn’t have that, “No, John, it isn’t. I-“ He scrambled for the right words, an action foreign in itself, “I- John. I have two sides to my brain. One is logical, the other… emotional.”

John furrowed his eyebrows at him, his eyes curious rather than confused.

Sherlock’s hand reached out without his knowledge and he just barely managed to divert its path from John’s knee to the arm rest. His heart beat hard, “I’m all logic. I- You have to understand, I haven’t developed the other half like I have this one. I never thought I would have to, never thought I _would_ , not until-“

They both sucked in a breath. _Once again, carried away_ Sherlock thought.

Not until you he had been about to say.

Sherlock bit his tongue, “I- I… I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Yes you did.” John said quietly.

Sherlock shook his head, caught off guard, “What?”

John suddenly let out a little laugh, his hand coming up to cover Sherlock’s on the armrest, “Sherlock, I know you. You always say what you mean. You were just doing it. Yes, I had a patient. She’s a little girl and she’s sick. That’s what happened. You figured it out and so you said it. So sure of yourself, and then… this. Me…” John’s thumb stroked over his knuckles softly, gently there but not trying to overpower Sherlock or distract, “All of that goes away, doesn’t it?”

Sherlock held his breath, eyes locked on their hands. His breathing was uneven, adrenaline and blood mixing in his veins. He swallowed hard, nodded, “Yes..”

John’s thumb stilled for a moment, then resumed, “Let it, okay? There’s…” John scooted forward in his seat and Sherlock swore the warmth radiating from him was hotter than any fire, “There’s no deducing or analyzing in this, it’s just… _this_.” He nodded at himself and Sherlock, “Okay?”

Sherlock blinked at John, trying to follow his instructions, trying to stop his brain. But it wouldn’t. It categorized, logging every little thing he wanted—needed—to remember from this moment.

_Tan skin—fire light, John. Lips, parted, cheeks colored—result of elevated pulse—reason to be determined. Hair mussed, eyes soft, pupils blown—alcohol? Pupils could also result from attraction. Attraction to whom? Surely not-_

“Sherlock, hey, come on back, yeah?” And suddenly John’s hands were on his cheeks, thumbs running along the cheekbones he seemed to pay so much attention to. Sherlock blinked wildly, lips parting, world coming back in focus. His world, at the moment, was full of _JohnJohnJohn_. John smiled at him, palms warm, “There we go. Come back to me… Finished thinking yet?”

Sherlock was barely aware of his mouth moving, his own voice sounded too loud given how close they were, despite the fact that both of their voices had lowered to just above a whisper, “It’s physically impossible to _finish thinking_. To accomplish that one would either have to die or become increasingly accomplished at meditat-“

“ _Sherlock_. Look at me.”

Sherlock didn’t think he would ever be able to do anything but look at John again.

John’s thumbs halted on his skin, his eyes were honest and soft and Sherlock doesn’t remember anyone looking at him like that before.

“Sherlock what do you want? No factors, no reasons or logic. What do you want? Just say it. Just say whatever you’d like. Doesn’t have to make sense.”

Sherlock let out a breath. _Just say it._ His brain instantly went full-power despite himself, weighing the reactions John might have to what his entire body was burning for him to say. Instead of words, he found himself leaning forward ever so slightly. It felt more like he was being pulled forward, his entire being being attracted to John. _Just say it._

“John..”

He focused on John’s hands against his skin. He focused on his eyes, his mouth. Nothing about them, just the fact that John was right there in front of him, lovely and patient. Still, the words were stuck in his throat. He couldn’t mess this up. When words failed, Sherlock found, actions didn’t.

He leaned forward and he kissed John Watson.

And his mind went blissfully, simply, blank. Only the moment remained.

John’s lips were warm and soft, slightly tangy from the scotch. He pressed back against Sherlock’s with equal force and, for the moment, Sherlock’s brain didn’t seem to need any of the stimulants it usually went to. He wasn’t doing a million things, thinking a million things at once. All that seemed to be noise now, white noise that silenced itself so quickly at John’s touch it was almost eerie. But it was lovely. It was _freeing._

“You.” Sherlock said when they broke apart, foreheads together and breathing deeply, “I want you.”

John smiled, and Sherlock kissed him again before his mind could come back online.


End file.
